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street-smarts00 · 2 months ago

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Santa Doesn't Know You Like I Do

Spencer Reid x Reader

Summary: Your first Christmas with Spencer and you get his name for secret Santa.

WC: 1.8k

Tags: Fluff, Secret Santa, friends to lovers, one use of Y/N I think A/N: Sorry I went MIA :( I got busy with school. I hope to push out many ideas while I’m on break tho. Here’s something cheesy and festive for the holiday season I hope you enjoy! (not beta read don't kill me)

Nothing was right. Nothing you found was the right present.

This was your first secret Santa with the BAU and you picked Spencer's name out of penelope’s mug. At first you thought it would be easy to buy a present for him because you knew him so well. In almost a year of being with the BAU you grew the closest with Spencer.

What you didn’t expect was your present ideas to not live up to your own expectations. Nothing you came up with could live up to your own standards. Of course your “slight” feelings for him definitely affected this, but you tried to tell yourself that wasn’t true.

You ran through dozens of ideas. Clothing, a new scarf, tickets for a play, special edition of a book he loved. But nothing felt like the right present.

You almost gave up in your search for the perfect present for him. The gift exchange was in less than a week and you still had nothing. Sitting at your desk in the bullpen you considered settling with one of your first ideas.

While getting up to refill your coffee mug you noticed Spencer’s attention was focused on his computer. He sat there deep in thought with his brows furrowed and lips in a fine line. When you walked by his desk you saw he was playing an online chess game.

“Working hard or hardly working?” you joked.

He popped out of his focus from your presence. “I finished my files a little early,” he responded bashfully.

“Are you at least winning?”

He smirked, “I’ve won four times. But that’s not even the fun part. The fun is doing different plays every time and seeing what the computer comes up with as the best response.”

That’s when it hit you. An idea for Spencer’s gift.

Finally something that felt like a good gift for him. At the end of the day you rushed out of work to go to the craft store and get your supplies. You worked on the gift everyday after work.

Soon the weekend rolled around and you found yourself at Rossi’s. His living room had the biggest Christmas tree you’d ever seen. Everyone’s gifts sat there for the evening. After dinner you all sat down to exchange gifts.

“I want to go first!” Garcia exclaimed. She jumped up from the couch and hurried to the tree to grab her gift for JJ.

JJ excitedly opened the gift bag to find a small black and grey purse with a colorful crochet keychain. The idea that Garcia also handmade part of her gift gave you a sense of relief.

“Oh this is so pretty. Thank you so much,” she beamed, admiring the bag and twirling the keychain. Garcia squealed in happiness before JJ offered a hug to her.

JJ then handed over her gift to Rossi, a bottle of scotch. He smiled and thanked her for the bottle saying how his collection needed a new addition.

He stood up and brought his hands together looking at the tree. “My turn.” He grabbed a thin box wrapped in silver sparkly wrapping paper and walked over to you.

“For you, my dear,” he handed you the box.

Your eyes widened and lips perked up at the gift. It may be a little silly but, part of you wished that you were Spencer’s secret santa. You reminded yourself that the possibility of you both picking each other's names was unlikely. The possibility of some things being the same between the two of you was … unlikely.

You ripped back the paper to reveal a large eyeshadow pallet. Upon opening it, you saw an array of beautiful shades you couldn’t wait to try out.

“Rossi, this is so sweet. I love it,” You thanked with a bright smile.

Now it was your turn. Everyone’s eyes only made the moment more stressful. You got up and grabbed the box with a nervous hand. What if he didn’t like it? What if he thought it was too cheesy or corny? What if he thought it was useless as he already owned two of them?

You tried to quiet your thoughts as you handed him the box, but they had no intention of leaving.

“Merry Christmas Spence,” you said softly.

When you turned and walked back to your seat you neglected to see the rising blush on his face.

Spencer glanced down at the white and red striped paper. He carefully peeled it off and opened the lid to reveal a chess set nestled in between red tissue paper. The board spaces were off-white and royal purple with corresponding chess pieces the same colors. When he picked up the wooden pieces and saw small leaves and flowers painted on them. The King and Queen specifically had crowns in a shimmering gold.

“Wow look at that,” Emily admired.

Upon further inspection he noticed the small human imperfections in the details. The way not one leaf or flower looked exactly the same. Or how the clear coating over the paint was slightly streaky in some spots.

“Did you paint this?” He asked.

You nodded your head and answered , “Yeah I did.”

A faint “awe” could be heard across the room from Garcia.

“Y/N,” Spencer started, his voice full of admiration. “This is … beautiful.”

The butterflies in your stomach were getting restless.

“Really?” you asked, not able to hide the smile spreading on your face.

“Yes! It’s Perfect,” his eyes sparkled at you. “I love it. Nobody’s ever given me something like this.” He beamed at you with a smile that made you love sick.

The realization that you both were not alone set in and Spencer cleared his throat before closing the box. The gift exchange continued as Spencer handed over a present to Morgan.

The rest of the night was filled with catching glances and far away looks between you and Spencer. He seemed to feel more relaxed in a way after receiving your gift. Not that he was acting any differently. He just seemed more open. With the group and with you.

You lived off that feeling the whole evening. The idea that you made him happy. You helped him see he was appreciated and loved.

Not that he had to know you loved him.

He didn’t know that. Right?

As the hands on the clock passed you announced your departure and said your goodbyes. You stepped outside and felt a chill against your skin.

You held tight onto your keys as you walked to your car. The snow had just started to fall. Occasional little flurries fell down from the sky.

“Wait!” Someone yelled from behind.

You turned to find Spencer trying his best to run but not slip on the icy parts of the driveway. When he got closer you noticed his cheeks and the tip of his nose were pink. Probably from the cold weather you thought.

“I wanted to formally say thank you for the chess set,” he explained.

“You’re welcome,” you replied with a smile. You stuffed your hands in your pockets away from the cold. “I’m glad you like it. I was worried you’d find it cheesy.”

He looked confused. “Why would I find it cheesy?”

You shrugged, “because I hand painted it.”

“But that’s what makes it perfect,” he reassured. His voice is sincere and soft. “It’s personal and shows you care.”

His eyes widened. “Oh um-“

He suddenly remembered why he rushed outside and scrambled for something in his jacket pocket. It was a small cube shaped box wrapped in paper covered in snowflakes. Quite fitting for the weather.

“I know I technically wasn’t your secret Santa but I still wanted to get you something.”

You took the gift from him with a slack jaw. “Spence-“

“This isn’t because you were my secret Santa. I still wanted to get you a gift regardless,” he reassured.

“I- Thank you,” you started unwrapping the gift.

“It’s not homemade like yours but I hope you still like it.”

”It doesn’t have to be homemade for me to-“ the wind was stolen out of your lungs.

The gift was a small gold and white music box you immediately recognized. You opened the lid to reveal a ballerina in a pink tutu spinning as Sleeping Beauty Waltz played. Your heart ached as you admired the tiny dancer.

”Is this the music box from that antique shop in Seattle?”

While on a case in Seattle, you and Spencer went to an antique shop to ask the owner about evidence found at the crime scene that was purchased there. You fell in love with a beautiful music box in one of the aisles.

“It is. I saw how you looked at it in the store and in the car you said it reminded you of when you used to do ballet. So before we left Seattle I went back to the store to get it for you. I thought it would make a great Christmas present.”

“But, that was three months ago.”

He sheepishly smiled and his cheeks only got more red. “Yeah, I had to keep it a secret for a while.”

Your heart rate started to pick up as the butterflies returned. “I can't believe you went back and bought this for me,” you muttered in disbelief.

“Of course I would. You mean a lot to me and I knew this was something that would make you happy.”

You admired the music box before carefully placing it in your purse. “Thank you so much. I love it.”

His smile grew and reached his eyes. His eyes looked beautiful in this lighting. The Christmas lights from the house made them look practically golden. Even in the freezing cold you could melt from his eyes.

He shifted his weight and licked his lips. He seemed wrapped around the words in his head. “I also wanted to ask if maybe you’d want to go see The Nutcracker with me.”

Your heart damn near stopped.

“It’s playing at the theater downtown. I was thinking if we don’t get a case then we could go see the show on Friday. Maybe, if you want to, that is,” he rambled in nervousness.

“I’d love to,” you beamed.

His face brightened at your eagerness, but his nerves were still present. “But not as friends. As a date?”

You chuckled, “Yes Spencer, I would love to go on a date with you. I think the nutcracker is a perfect first date.”

“Great,” he said with relief. “And maybe afterwards we might have time for a game of chess with my new board.”

God he was cute.

“That sounds great.”

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid headcanon #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fic

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hotasfahrenheit · 8 months ago

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literally today in Shared BL Warddrobe items:

JJ Rathasat in Sunset x Vibes ep 2, AJ Chayapol in Wandee Goodday ep 8

this jacket must be either trendy right now or recently on sale since it popped up in two shows on the same day 🤣

#shared bl warddrobe #sunset vibes #sunset x vibes #wandee goodday #aj chayapol #jj rathasat #mia watches things

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lavenderspence · 8 months ago

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Missing the happy hormone | S.R.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Content warning: emotional reader, period mention, fluff

Word Count: 1.8K

Summary: Apparently Spencer Reid could make anything better - even the emotional disaster of being on your period

A/N: First, huge thank you to the cutie that sent in this request, you literally caught me while on my period so this was born. Also, here’s to my inability to write short fics, this is your only warning that i can make and will make anything long, lol. Also, my titles suck omg. And shoutout to my crazy bestie for making me a Mamma Mia girly, she rocks.

But also, happy one month to this blog! When I carved out this little space for myself a month ago I wasn’t really sure how I’d feel being back here and writing again, but so far it’s been a treat. A huge thank you for all of your support and love and thank you to my mutuals and everyone that interacted with my blog. 💕 Here’s to many more months to come!

Request: spencer x fem!reader on her period/ovulating and shes in tears all the time?? Im ovulating and have been crying for hours and keep calling my mom lmaoo he’d been so lovely and sweet I know it I can feel it in my bones

masterlist

It was a slow day at the BAU. The most exciting thing in the 6 hours Spencer had spent at work was Rossi’s invitation to dinner the following weekend.

Paperwork had piled high after their last 2 cases, so every team member was hunched over their desk, writing and revising reports. It was a never-ending cycle - finish a report, close the file, open a new one, and start all over again.

His eyes had started getting tired after four and a half hours, his hand had started cramping and he was down two pens so far, yet there was still a prominent pile on his desk.

He suspected Morgan and Emily might have pushed a file or two from theirs onto his load, seeing as he was getting done the fastest. Regardless, every few hours JJ was bringing even more to pile on top of everything that wasn’t finished, so buried in paperwork they stayed - no matter how fast he wrote or read, or how used to the load he was.

He was just thinking about getting up to prepare a fresh pot of coffee so he could function properly for a few more hours when his phone started ringing. He felt around the pockets of his suit jacket, where it sat draped on his chair, and then pulled it free.

His display showed an incoming call, a picture of you as he hugged you, hands around your middle and face almost buried into your neck, a soft smile gracing both your faces. A scenery rich with reds, browns, and yellows stood behind you, the beauty of fall was nothing short of spectacular.

The picture you’d taken last year when the team spent a weekend at Rossi’s cabin in the woods, surrounded by the beauty of landscapes and leaves, nature for miles.

He accepted the call right away, a small smile on his face.

“Hey sweetheart.” His voice was gentle, if a little raspy from misuse. He hadn’t talked much in the last few hours - just a distracted short answer here or a hum there. He was happy you were calling, though, welcoming the reprieve from the most recent report.

It was silent for a few seconds, and he wondered absentmindedly if maybe you hadn’t called him on accident, and then there came a tiny little sniffle from your side.

“Sweetheart?” He prompted, “Are you there? What’s going on?” Worry was starting to creep into the base of his spine, but he still remained calm and kept his voice gentle.

“I’m here. Hi.” Another small sniffle, “All’s good. Just…I was just wondering how much longer you’d be gone.” Your voice was small,like you thought you might upset him by asking, and a little crackly, like you yourself were upset about something.

His eyebrows furrowed, and he checked the time quickly - 3:57 pm.

“Probably about two more hours, there’s a lot of paperwork we need to go through.” His eyes met Emily’s as she sent him a curious, questioning look.

“Oh, okay.” The resignation was clear in your voice, “I’ll see you later then.” The call ended abruptly, and it took him a second to catch up.

He couldn’t help but feel like not everything was as good as you claimed it was. For one, you rarely called to ask when he’d be home - you knew his work could span into the late hours, or even stretch for days. You let him update you on any changes in his work schedule.

In your interactions, your voice was usually upbeat and teasing - especially on the phone. Your kindness was always evident in your voice, as was your mood. You were a sunshine person, if he ever met one, that’s probably why you and Penelope formed such a close bond upon meeting.

There was something that nagged him - a change in your mood he could pick up on just by your voice - too low, too small, and the cracks that he could now identify as he replayed your conversation in his head. You were keeping yourself from crying out, and yet there was nothing more apparent than the tears in your voice. And that made him worry.

“Reid, are you okay?” Emily’s voice snapped him from the hard stare he’d been giving his phone in the last several minutes since the call ended.

“I…I don’t know.” His eye twitched, and he cleared his throat before he tried and failed to articulate exactly what was happening - he himself had a hard time understanding. One thing he knew was that he needed to get home. “I..um, I need to go. Can you, please?” He asked, gusting at the remaining three files on his desk before he pulled his suit jacket on and grabbed his satchel.

Morgan and Emily shared a mildly concerned look before they both nodded their heads, “Yeah, go. Text to let us know if everything is okay.” Morgan reminded him before he exited the bullpen with a fast step and tried to keep calm.

He was aware the situation wasn’t anything that he needed to be incredibly worried over - if something was really wrong, he knew you would have let him know. Yet, he couldn’t help the way his heart constricted by the sound of your voice, or the overwhelming desire to come home and gently hold you, see what could have caused this behavior.

You were curled up on the couch, watching as Donna helped Sophie get ready for her wedding, the gentle melody of “Slipping through my fingers” filling the empty apartment. Your eyes were watering, to the point that everything was starting to get blurry. A shaky exhale left your lips.

Today has simply been a rollercoaster. Kissing Spencer goodbye this morning was the highlight of the day. What followed was nothing short of an emotional disaster.

You’d teared up during breakfast, images of picking berries with Spencer flying through your mind. The desire to make it a reality was strong.

Following that had come the overwhelming urge to bawl your eyes out, for no apparent reason whatsoever. Just cry and cry until you had it all emptied out and you could take a deep breath and continue with your day. So, cry you did, and then you’d finished with your chores for the day.

Apparently letting it all out and emptying your tear supply hadn’t happened. Seeing as around 3:30 you’d started missing your boyfriend so much, the need to hear his voice had won out, so you’d called him. You felt the need to have him home to hold you because this month’s visit from mother flow was making you feel like a crybaby.

But then there was disappointment at the notion that you needed to wait close to 3 hours before that could happen. So you quickly ended the call before he could pick up on the tone of your voice, and then you shed a few tears.

Now here you were, rewatching Mamma Mia because you really needed a pick me up, and once again, eyes shining as the tears started falling. At this point, it was a losing battle, so you let them fall, humming to the song with a broken voice.

That’s exactly how Spencer found you, not a minute later. His keys were in his hand, the satchel on his shoulder, and he was just a little bit out of breath.

The moment his eyes met you, they softened as he dropped everything and sat down next to you. His hand reached up and he cradled the side of your face, wiping your tears away.

“Hey, sweetheart. What’s wrong?” He asked in a whisper.

“Look at Donna painting Sophie’s nails, it’s...” You hiccuped, another wave of tears washing over you. “And you’re home, why are you home?” Your question was met with a furrow in his brow, as his thumbs continued wiping underneath your eyes.

“You called.” He answered simply.

“But you said-” He stopped you before you could finish your sentence.

“I did, yes. But you sounded off and sad, so. Want to tell me what’s going on?” He prompted you gently as he pushed your hair back and pulled you into his lap after, feeling like you needed the physical contact.

You weren’t ashamed to admit it, per se, but you were ashamed that your hormones had caused him to leave work and race home to be with you.

“It’s my period,” you mumbled, hands wrapping around his neck as you hid your face in his chest, too tired to prevent your eyes from watering again. “It’s been going on all day. Randomly, I’d just get so emotional, and the tears would start. I was missing you so much too, and then hearing the song, bam, tears again. I’m so done with this Spence.” You sounded barely coherent, with your face pushed as close to him as possible.

It all made sense now, you’d been cranky a few days ago, and then you’d told him last night your cramps were unbearable, so he knew you were on your period, but right now he felt like an idiot for not figuring it out himself.

“It’s okay, everything is fine. The drop in estrogen and progesterone, following your ovulation triggered this. This in turn reduced the production of serotonin, your happy hormone. So, we just need to boost it a bit.” He whispered into your ear as you played with the hairs at the nape of his neck.

“How?” You sighed into his chest, almost being able to pick up on the sound of his heartbeat.

He got deep in thought for a few seconds as you breathed in his scent, and a sense of calmness slowly overtook you now that he was home and holding you. One of his hands was running soothing circles on your back as the other held your hand, fingers interlocked.

“How about we take a trip to the store and get you some snacks? We’ll pick up dinner on the way home and then I'll hold you some more and you'll pick a movie for us to watch.” He suggested, kissing the crown of your head once, twice, and many more times until you gave him an answer.

“Yeah, yeah, I think that would help, but just having you here has done wonders.” You finally laid your head against his chest, looking up to meet his eyes. He smiled, and so did you. Having him here really had helped immensely, and when had it not? He was your other half, your rock, and even when your emotions ran rampant or you were feeling down, just his presence, his touch, and his understanding were enough to make it all okay.

Later in the evening, Penelope sent you a photo of Sergio sleep-hugging a little plushy you’d gotten him, and the waterworks started all over again. Luckily, Spencer was there, wiping your tears and kissing your head, saying a thousand things without actually speaking a word.

Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated!

Requests are open for both Spencer and Hotch if you want to send any!

#spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x you #criminal minds #criminal minds fluff #criminal minds fanfic

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ivysprophecy · 3 months ago

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please please please

word count; 1644

summary; turning off your phone and shutting out the world isnt the best way to handle your problems but its what you do. and jjs had enough of it.

warnings; i dont think there is any? mentions of anxiety attacks? tagging @murdockcastleslut @kimoralov3 @arkofblake

masterlist

prev. | next

divider by @bernardsbendystraws

"well hey there stranger"

i turn from my book to look behind me, seeing the boy id been actively avoiding for the past two days. carrying his surf board.

i shouldve remembered he'd come here to surf. i just wouldn't have guessed this early in the morning.

"hey jayj."

"oh thats all i get? 'hey'? no 'i miss you so much'?" he sets his board in the sand taking a seat next to me on my blanket.

guess im not finishing my book today. "oh my god jj! youre here! ive been dyingggg to talk to you! i cant believe youre really in here in the flesh! there. better?"

"oh dont be like that- cmon mama whatd i do?" i feel bad with the genuine concern on his face.

okay was ghosting him out of nowhere awful of me? probably. i just didnt know what else to do.

after that night at the bonfire i realized that with my feelings for him growing it wasnt a good idea for us to continue our casual... something. it played with both our emotions. it isnt fair to either of us.

especially after his 'i love you'. that really did it in for me.

"you didnt do anything jj. trust. i just... ive been in a funk. needed some me time thats all."

"well... do you still need your 'me time'?" he looked so hopeful. how could i say yes? where jj maybank is concerned ill easily fold every time. "cause you havent answered my texts so i couldn't ask you to surf with me this morning."

"... i dont have my board. but i suppose i can hang out with you for a little while."

"im honored," he smiles laying back on his elbows, "but really. are you good? i like to think i know you pretty well and this whole MIA thing was not normal."

turning to face him more, i sigh, what the fuck am i supposed to say? 'yea im just so in love with you i cant be around you' yea that would go over really well.

"i dont know. just gotta lot of stuff goin on. you dont have to worry though. im good."

"well do ya wanna talk about it?"

"trust me jay you dont wanna hear about my problems. theyre trivial at best."

"what are friends for if not for listening?" he nudges me with his shoulder urging me to talk. i really dont think i can do this. i was not prepared.

"youre not a very good listener," i point out, to which he immediately takes faux offense. jaw dropped and everything.

"oh thats just not true! i can listen!"

i run a hand through my tangled hair in frustration. this cannot be how i tell him. it just cant. i came here to get away from thinking about this and now hes right here in front of me acting so unserious while im spiraling.

"jj i really appreciate how eager you are to help me but its really not necessary. i didnt really prepare myself and its just too much-"

"prepare yourself? mama what the fuck are you talking about? does this have to do with that night after the bonfire? i mean obviously it does who am i kidding you havent talked to me since then. did i do something wrong? was- was it bad?" he leans in closer, lowering his voice thats laced with worry and guilt.

oh my god that is the absolute last thing i expected him to say. shit i really fucked this up. and honestly just not true.

"what? no! no jj you didnt do anything wrong and it was perfect. promise," i try to reassure him but i know deep down hes gonna over think this whole thing if i dont tell him straight up

i may love him but i never said he was the brightest in the bunch.

"okay so whats the problem?"

"the problem is that it was perfect," i cant help but let out a sigh before hiding my face in my hands as the words leave my mouth.

god my heart is racing, im not ready for this conversation. maybe if i pass out i wont have to. yea if he has to call an ambulance then we can avoid this all together. but an ambulance is also like five grand so...

shit.

"... youre mad at me because you had a good time?" his face contorted in a weird fixture of confusion.

"no! no- god youre so dense sometimes!"

"mama i dont have a fucking clue what youre saying! how does that make me stupid??"

i hide my face in my hands again trying to compose myself because what the fuck kind of confession is this?

"jj im avoiding you because ive been developing feelings for you and i cannot in good conscience keep being so casual with you and sleeping with you knowing this and i know that you do not want anything serious so i figured id just make it easier for the both of us and just take myself out of the situation entirely so that nothing bad happens and i cannot stop fucking talking so please for the love of god say something or do something because i feel like my heart is about to beat out of my chest and-"

oh my god im getting my book moment. he just kissed me to make me stop talking!!! oh my god hes kissing me.

is this where i kiss him back?

of course i kiss him back!! what the fuck!!? and oh my lord does it feel nice, so so so nice.

the way his tongue presses against mine, the way he cups my jaw and pulls me close to him. it was slow and confident and loving and everything he knows i like. his hands find my hips like muscle memory, pulling our bodies together, eventually having me on his lap. where he takes my hands and places them on his chest so i can feel his chest rise and fall with deep breaths.

“… mama you need to learn to breathe.”

“that’s not funny right now jj. im actively having an anxiety attack, horrible thing to say really."

"what're you so anxious about? i think we're havin' a pretty calm conversation, dont you?"

"i mean yea- but thats not-" he interrupts me while shaking his head with a shrug.

"listen, i get why youre a little nervous to say that, all things considered. but i thought it was pretty obvious i was into you, i just didnt wanna push you because you made your boundaries clear so i just took what i could get."

my eyes bug out of my head in shock. am i the dense one? i mean yea hes a really good kisser and i can feel he cares deeply about me when we do stuff and makes me feel safe and supported but that doesnt mean-

yea im stupid. he all but outright said it. actually he has. thats what started this panic.

"... okay yea- maybe. but you agreed they were a good idea so i figured that meant you wanted them there too. and i dont know- it just kind of got overwhelming and i didnt wanna be one of those girls who expects something huge after sex so... you know what i mean? and truthfully youre not what i expected for me."

"what does that mean?" his face showed a little offense.

"i just mean- ya know. for one i didnt expect to love my best friend. and then on top of that i didnt think id love a guy who was a treasure hunting, or- adrenaline junkie i should say."

he leans back putting some space between us, "is that supposed to be a bad thing?

"no! no jay im not saying this right- i-... youre a fighter and youre adventurous- a lot of things im not. if that makes sense. all im sayin is a few years ago i wouldnt have expected to be here. but i like it here. love it here even," i smile at him teasingly trying to ease his worries. the last thing i need is to say the wrong thing right now.

"so what youre saying is that you love me?"

"youre such an idiot."

'but do ya? because i think you do mama."

i roll my eyes chuckling, "yea. yea i do maybank," i press a small kiss to his cheek leaning back into him.

"does this mean youll let me make you a maybank mama?" his eyebrow was quirked up as he teases his question.

"lets not get ahead of ourselves. how about we take this slow?"

he looks down at my button up shirt i was wearing over my bikini to shield me from the ocean breeze, and i could tell he was debating taking it off of me. giving me that same look he always does.

"slow? mama i dont think we're gonna be too good at that."

"all 'm sayin is we dont have to jump the gun, we both admitted it, doesnt mean we gotta change the way we act or announce it or nothing. we can just enjoy this ourselves ya know?"

"you embarrassed of me mama?"

"not at all baby, just want you all to myself. is that too much to ask for?"

he shakes his head leaning up against me, our faces inches apart, "nah i dont think so. i like the sound of that."

i meet him the rest of the way pressing his lips to mine, smiling into it. pulling him as close as humanly possible. i need him under mind skin, in my blood, you know?

"i do too, so we agree? we'll keep this between us for now?"

"whatever you want mama. yes maam."

#jj maybank need you by my side #mama needs her jj #my writing <3 #jj maybank oneshot #jj maybank fics #jj maybank imagine #jj maybank x reader #obx #obx imagine #fic recs <3

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badathumanemotions · 1 month ago

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Hello! I don't know if you're taking requests, but if you are I'm begging for an emily prentiss × female!reader with a dom/sub dynamic involving... Scissoring (I don't know if that's how you say it, but that's how I'm going to say it) after a difficult private case involving children (which is Emily's weak point) and I thought about breeding kinks, if possible (I think it's hot involving sapphic couples). Please?

The Quiet After

Emily Prentiss x femReader

MDNI Masterlist Category: Smut CW: Normal Criminal Minds Warnings, Case Involving Children, BAU Reader, Angst, Smut, Oral Sex, Tribidism, Scissoring, Strap On, Breeding Kink, Light Dom/Sub, Comfort. WC: 7,852 *Updated* Completely missed the first section while transferring it over, sorry about that. (Not Proof Read)

The case weighs heavily on Emily. It’s in her eyes—those tired, worn-out eyes you’ve come to know better than anyone else’s. She doesn’t let it show on the surface, but you can feel it. You know her. And this case, with the kids, is getting to her in a way that’s deeper than usual.

You watch her for a moment, standing at the board, her fingers tracing the photos of the missing children. The unsub believes he’s doing them a favour—taking them to a “better” place. It’s not hard to guess why it hits Emily so hard. There’s a part of her, a quiet, secret part, that wants to be a mother. She’s told you once, during one of those rare moments when she lets her guard down, when it’s just the two of you, and she’s soft, vulnerable in ways that few people get to see.

You’ve seen the subtle changes—the way her hands linger over the files of the kids, her shoulders tightening as the day stretches on. She’s struggling, but you’re here. You’re with her. And even when the case is consuming her, she finds ways to steal small moments with you, little gestures that recharge her.

A quiet kiss behind the SUV after the briefing. Her hand slipping into yours as you walk to the next scene. The brief press of her lips to your temple when she thinks no one’s looking. It’s in these moments that you can feel her ground herself again, as if your touch can remind her that she’s not alone in this.

The board in the conference room is covered with photos of the missing children, their faces staring back at you. There are seven so far, ranging in age from five to eleven. Beneath each photo are snapshots of their lives—school pictures, candid moments from birthday parties, photos scraped from social media. It’s a cruel juxtaposition against the grim reality of their current circumstances.

“The unsub is targeting children they perceive as neglected,” Spencer explains, standing near the map dotted with pins marking the locations of the abductions. “But their definition of neglect seems warped. The children’s backgrounds don’t show significant patterns of abuse or systemic failures.”

“It’s subjective,” Emily adds, her voice sharp and focused. “They’re acting on personal judgment, deciding these kids aren’t being cared for based on arbitrary criteria—like an out-of-context moment or assumption about the family dynamic.” Her arms are crossed tightly over her chest, a shield against the emotions brimming beneath the surface.

Garcia clicks through slides on the projector, her voice uncharacteristically subdued. “This is Evan Marshall, eight years old. His mom works two jobs, so he’s often in the care of his older sister. She’s fifteen. CPS has never been involved. Teachers describe him as happy and well-adjusted.”

The photo shifts to a girl no older than twelve. “And this is Sophia Grant. Her dad is a single parent. No abuse on record, but the unsub might have seen him disciplining her in public. And then there’s Mia Lang, five years old. Her parents had a loud argument at a grocery store a week before she was taken. Someone might have seen that and made assumptions.”

“They think they’re saving these kids from a horrible life,” JJ says, shaking her head. “But in reality, they’re just ripping them away from their families.”

Spencer frowns, adding, “It’s likely that the unsub sees themselves as a redeemer, correcting what they perceive as societal failures. Each abduction reinforces their sense of righteousness. The more they take, the more justified they feel.”

A heavy silence falls over the room. The photos on the board feel suffocating. Seven children—snatched away under the guise of salvation, only to be murdered by someone who thinks they’re better off dead.

Emily’s gaze lingers on the images longer than the others. Her jaw tightens, and you can almost see the turmoil brewing beneath her composed exterior. This isn’t just another case for her. It’s personal in ways she hasn’t fully shared with anyone but you.

Later, during a quieter moment, you find her standing by the SUVs in the parking lot, her back to the building. Her fingers worry the strap of her holster, a nervous habit she doesn’t even realize she’s doing.

You approach slowly, your footsteps pulling her from her thoughts. She looks up, her expression softening slightly when her eyes meet yours.

“Hey,” you say, your voice gentle as you step closer.

She doesn’t speak immediately, but she doesn’t resist when you slide your hand into hers, offering her an anchor.

“I hate this case,” she finally admits, her voice barely above a whisper. “It’s not just the kids. It’s the way the unsub thinks they’re doing the right thing. That they’re justified.”

You nod, squeezing her hand lightly. “It’s awful. But we’ll find them, Emily. You’ll find them.”

Her jaw clenches, and for a moment, you think she’s going to argue, but then she exhales a shaky breath and nods. “I hope so,” she murmurs.

Her hand tightens around yours, grounding herself in your touch. It’s a stolen moment, brief but powerful, as she lets herself lean into you. The team doesn’t need to see this—the way she recharges herself in the quiet moments you share.

“You okay?” you ask softly, your free hand brushing a strand of hair from her face.

Her eyes meet yours, and though the exhaustion is clear, there’s gratitude there too. “I will be,” she says, her voice steadier now.

You stand there together for a little longer, the weight of the case momentarily lighter between you. It’s enough to remind her��and you—that she’s not in this alone.

The tension in the room was electric as the team pieced together the final parts of the unsub’s profile. Spencer’s rapid-fire monologue laid out the psychological motivations, each word building up a picture of the unsub.

“The unsub’s fixation stems from a personal history of perceived neglect,” he explained, his hands moving animatedly as he spoke. “They’re projecting their own experiences onto these children and making judgment calls based on fleeting observations. The perceived neglect—a single-parent household, a sibling as a caretaker—is triggering their need to intervene.”

“They’re likely observing the children over time,” JJ added. “The unsub is targeting families that seem chaotic or unconventional from the outside, but these are often normal, loving homes. They’re misinterpreting moments—like a parent raising their voice in public or an older sibling looking overwhelmed—as signs of neglect.”

Emily’s arms were crossed tightly, her jaw set in a way you recognized. She was focused, determined, and more emotionally invested than she’d ever admit in front of the team.

“What we’ve seen so far suggests they’re escalating,” JJ added, her voice heavy with concern. “They’ve gone from abducting children every few weeks to every few days. If we don’t move fast, there’s going to be another victim.”

“Garcia, do we have anything on their potential location?” Hotch’s voice cut through the discussion with its usual authority.

Garcia’s fingers flew across her keyboard, her eyes scanning through reams of property records, utility bills, and work schedules for any anomaly that might point to a suspect. “I’m narrowing down properties owned or rented by individuals with ties to these areas," she said, her voice tense but determined. "I’m looking for someone whose daily routine brings them into contact with children in these areas—a school bus driver, a delivery person, someone who works near parks or schools. Those interactions might be how they observed the kids." She glanced at the screen. "Cross-referencing every property associated with individuals fitting the profile within a fifty-mile radius of the abduction sites. Hang tight, my loves, I’ll have something soon."

Moments later, her screen lit up with a match. "Okay, I’ve got something. George Lyman, 38 years old, works as a postal carrier in the targeted areas. His route regularly takes him through neighbourhoods where each of the victims lived. He’s single, no criminal record, but… oh." Garcia paused, her tone shifting. "He has a history of child protective services reports from his own childhood. His parents were flagged multiple times for physical and emotional abuse, but every time George ran away, he was returned to them. There are records of repeated visits by social workers, but nothing was ever done to remove him from the home.”

Emily’s face darkened. “So he sees himself in these kids, believes he’s saving them.”

Hotch nodded. “That fits with the profile. What else do we have on him?”

“He rents a farmhouse just outside town,” Garcia continued. “It’s isolated and matches the description of the type of location we’ve been looking for. I’m sending you the address now.”

You caught Emily’s eye across the room. The exhaustion in her face was mirrored in your own, but beneath it, you saw the same resolve. You gave her a small nod, and she returned it—just a fraction, but it was enough to steady you both.

The drive to the farmhouse was tense. Emily sat beside you, her leg bouncing with restless energy. She’d barely spoken since the briefing, and you knew better than to press her. Instead, you let your pinky brush hers on the console between you, a silent reassurance. She glanced at you briefly, the corners of her mouth twitching in a ghost of a smile, before turning her focus back to the road ahead.

The farmhouse loomed in the distance, its silhouette stark against the darkening sky. The team split into pairs, surrounding the property. You were with Emily, your weapons drawn as you moved toward the back entrance.

“Ready?” you whispered.

She nodded, her jaw tightening. “Let’s do this.”

The door creaked open under Emily’s firm push, revealing a dimly lit interior that smelled of damp wood and decay. You swept the first room together, clearing it quickly before moving deeper into the house. Upstairs, muffled voices and a child’s cry sent a chill down your spine.

Emily held up a hand, signalling you to pause. She leaned toward you, her voice barely audible. “They’re up there. We need to be careful.”

You nodded, your heart hammering in your chest. Together, you ascended the stairs, each step deliberate and silent. At the top, you found yourselves in a long hallway, the sound of the child’s cries growing louder. Emily gestured to the farthest door, and you both moved toward it.

Hotch’s voice came through your comm. “We’ve cleared the lower level. The house is empty except for one suspect. Any sign of the child?”

Emily responded quietly, “We’re about to breach a room on the second floor. Stand by.”

You reached the door and exchanged a glance with her. This was it. Emily counted down with her fingers, and on three, you burst into the room together.

The room was small, its walls covered with old wallpaper curling at the edges. A man stood in the center, his grip tight on a terrified boy’s arm. The child, no older than eight, was trembling, his tear-streaked face pale with fear.

“FBI!” Emily shouted, her voice commanding. “Drop the weapon and let the boy go!”

The unsub’s eyes were wild, darting between you and Emily. He clutched a knife in his free hand, the blade trembling as much as his fingers. “You don’t understand,” he said, his voice cracking. “I’m saving him.”

“Saving him from what?” you asked, keeping your voice calm. “He needs his family. Whatever you think you’re doing, this isn’t the way to help.”

The unsub shook his head violently. “No one cared about me! No one ever cared! They won’t care about him either!”

Emily took a slow, careful step forward, her gun still trained on the man. “George, listen to me. You’re scared, and you’re hurting, but this isn’t the answer. Look at him—he’s just a child. You can’t make him go through what you did.”

For a moment, something flickered in George’s eyes—hesitation, maybe even regret. His grip on the knife faltered, his hand trembling. But then, in an instant, he pulled the boy closer, the blade pressing against the child’s neck.

“Stay back!” George screamed, his voice breaking. “Don’t make me do this!”

Your heart raced as you saw the terror in the boy’s eyes. Emily’s voice remained steady, though you could hear the edge of desperation in it. “You don’t have to do this, George. Put the knife down, and we’ll talk. No one else has to get hurt.”

The standoff stretched into agonizing seconds, every muscle in your body coiled and ready to move. You caught Emily’s eye, and she gave the slightest nod—silent confirmation of the plan forming between you.

In a swift motion, Emily fired, her shot hitting George’s shoulder with pinpoint accuracy. The knife clattered to the floor as George cried out in pain, his grip on the boy loosening. You didn’t hesitate, lunging forward and pulling the child into your arms, shielding him as Emily rushed to subdue the unsub.

“It’s okay,” you whispered to the boy, your voice gentle as you held him close. “You’re safe now. We’ve got you.”

The boy clung to you, his small hands gripping your shirt as he sobbed uncontrollably. You crouched on the floor with him, your body positioned protectively between him and the rest of the room.

Emily secured George with practiced efficiency, her jaw tight as she snapped the handcuffs into place. She glanced over at you and the boy, her expression softening ever so slightly when she saw you murmuring reassurances to him.

The rest of the team arrived moments later, the tension in the room finally breaking as Hotch and Morgan took over. Emily walked over to you, crouching beside you and the boy.

“Hey,” she said softly, her voice a stark contrast to the authority she’d wielded moments ago. “You’re safe now. Can you tell me your name?”

The boy hiccupped through his tears. “E-Evan,” he managed.

Emily smiled gently. “Evan, you’re so brave. We’re going to take you home, okay?”

He nodded, his grip on you loosening just enough for Emily to brush a comforting hand over his back.

As the team began to clear the scene and escort George out, you stayed with Evan, his small frame still trembling against yours. Emily stood, giving you a brief but meaningful look before stepping away to help the others.

You held Evan a little tighter, feeling the weight of his fear and relief as if it were your own. In that moment, nothing else mattered but making sure he felt safe.

The boy, Evan, was safely in the hands of the paramedics now, his sobs slowly subsiding as he clung to one of the responders. The team had the unsub secured, and the farmhouse was already being cleared. You felt a wave of exhaustion wash over you as you watched them lead Evan to safety, but it wasn’t over yet.

“Good job, everyone,” Hotch said, his voice steady, even in the aftermath. “Let’s wrap this up.”

The drive back home was quiet, the weight of the case still hanging heavy in the air. You sat beside Emily, your fingers brushing occasionally, the small touches speaking volumes. She was focused on the road, her jaw tense, but you could see the weariness in her eyes. You didn’t speak, neither of you needed to, but your proximity was a comfort—a grounding force amid the chaos of the case.

By the time you made it to your shared apartment, the evening had settled into a quiet calm, but the emotions of the day were far from gone. You both stepped out of the SUV, the cool night air feeling sharper now as it hit your skin. Without a word, you walked side by side into the building, up to your apartment, and inside.

The door clicked shut behind you, and just like that, the quiet of the apartment surrounded you both, cutting through the exhaustion that clung to your bones.

Emily didn’t say anything. She simply kicked off her shoes, then reached for you, pulling you into a tight embrace. Her arms were strong, but there was something softer about this moment—more raw than you’d seen in her before. It was as if she couldn’t bear to let go of you, even for a second.

Then she leaned in, her breath warm against your cheek. Her kiss took you by surprise—intimate and urgent. It was as if she was trying to erase the horror of the day with the press of her lips to yours. You didn’t resist. You couldn’t. Instead, you melted into it, letting the heat of her touch seep into your very soul.

Her arms wound around your waist, pulling you closer, until there wasn’t an inch of space between you. Your hands found their way to her hair, tangling in the soft strands as the kiss grew deeper, more desperate. It was a kiss filled with fear and anger, but also with a fierce love and a need to be connected—to be human.

Without breaking away, you both stumbled into the bedroom. The door clicked shut, cutting off the outside world, leaving just the two of you. You didn’t bother with the lights, the moon casting enough of a glow through the windows to navigate the room. Her hands were everywhere—on your neck, your back, sliding down to your ass—and you could feel the urgency in every touch, as if she was trying to claim you as her own.

Emily’s strength was surprising as she hoisted you onto the bed. You felt your breath hitch as she looked down at you, a wild hunger burning in her gaze. You could see the need etched on her features, the same need echoing in your own chest. It was raw, animalistic, and you craved it like a drug.

Her hands moved to the buttons of your shirt, deftly undoing them one by one. Each button released cool air against your skin, causing goosebumps to break out. She took her time, kissing each inch of exposed flesh as if she were worshipping it, her lips leaving a trail of fire in their wake. The fabric parted to reveal your bra, and she took a moment to simply look at you, her eyes darkening with desire.

Emily’s fingertips danced along the lace, tracing the edge of your bra before gently pushing the fabric up to reveal your breasts. She took one nipple into her mouth, her tongue swirling around it in a slow, tantalizing dance that had you arching off the bed. The sensation was exquisite, and you couldn’t help but moan, your hands fisting in the sheets. Her other hand found its way to your waistband, and she began to unbuckle your belt with an agonizing slowness that made you want to scream in frustration.

Her kisses travelled down your torso, each one more urgent than the last. She kissed your stomach, her breath tickling the sensitive skin, and you felt your abs clench in anticipation. As she reached the button of your pants, she paused, her eyes meeting yours. You nodded, giving her the silent go-ahead, your body aching for her touch.

Your pants fell away, revealing the simple cotton panties that were already damp with need. Emily’s gaze was intense, her pupils dilated with desire. Her hand reached out, tracing the waistband of your underwear with the back of her fingers before she hooked them and slowly began to pull them down.

Her eyes were focused as the fabric slid over your hips, exposing the wetness that had gathered between your legs. You watched her face, the hunger in her expression unmistakable. It sent a thrill through you, a heady mix of desire and power, knowing you could do this to her.

Emily’s fingertips brushed over your inner thighs, sending shivers of anticipation through your body. You spread your legs wider, silently begging for her touch. She didn’t make you wait long. With a soft, almost reverent sigh, she reached down and parted your folds with the tips of her fingers. You gasped as she touched you, the sensation of her skin against yours sending heat through your core.

Her touch was gentle at first—exploratory. She traced the length of your slit, her fingertips slipping through your slickness and circling your clit with maddening precision. Your hips rocked upward, seeking more pressure, but she took her time, her eyes studying your reactions. Each touch was calculated, a silent exploration of what you liked, what you needed.

Then, her fingers entered you, sliding in smoothly. You bit your lip to stifle a moan as she began to move, setting a slow, deliberate pace that had you panting. Her thumb found your clit, stroking it in time with the movement of her fingers. It was a sweet agony, the anticipation of what was to come building with every second that passed.

She brought her mouth to your pussy, her tongue swiping over your clit with a gentle touch that had you trembling. She took her time, savouring every part of you, and when she finally closed her lips around the sensitive bud, you couldn’t hold back the gasp.

Her suckling grew more intense, each pull sending shockwaves through your body. Her teeth grazed you gently, not quite biting, but adding an edge to the pleasure that had you digging your nails into the bedspread. Emily’s hand gripped your thigh, holding you in place as she explored your depths, her fingers moving in tandem with her mouth.

As the tension grew, you felt your body begin to quiver. You reached down to stroke her hair, needing to feel connected to her in every way possible. She took your cue, increasing her pace, her tongue flicking against your clit with a rhythm that had your toes curling. Your breathing grew ragged, your moans echoing through the room.

Emily’s own need was palpable. You could see it in the way her hips began to rock back and forth, grinding her core against the edge of the bed. She was so focused on bringing you pleasure that she forgot about herself. But you weren’t going to let that happen.

With trembling hands, you reached down and pulled Emily up onto the bed. Her body was a warm, solid weight against you. You both needed this—needed to feel each other, needed to be close.

You began to kiss her again, but this time, you were the one in charge. Your hands moved to her shirt, slipping it off her shoulders and down her arms, revealing her bare skin to the cool air. Her bra followed, and you took a moment to just look at her—her perfect breasts, the rosy tips of her nipples standing at attention.

Your tongue darted out, tracing the outline of one erect peak before closing your mouth around it. Emily gasped, her head falling back, and you took advantage, sucking gently as you teased the sensitive flesh. You felt her hands in your hair, her nails digging into your scalp as she pulled you closer, her hips bucking against you.

Your hands moved to her breasts, cupping the soft mounds before squeezing them firmly. Your thumbs flicked over the tightened buds, eliciting whimpers that only spurred you on. You could feel her nipples pebbled against your palms, the sensation sending jolts of desire straight to your own core. Emily’s breath grew shallower, her body arching towards you as you played her like an instrument.

With a sudden, urgent need to feel all of her, you slid your hand down her stomach, over the waistband of her pants. Your fingers worked the button and zipper with surprising dexterity, given how much your own hands were shaking. You pushed the fabric down, her underwear following, revealing her bare sex.

Emily’s thighs parted slightly, an unspoken invitation that you couldn’t resist. You gripped her thighs firmly, spreading her wider as you leaned in to taste her. Your tongue darted out, lapping up the wetness that had pooled at her entrance.

Her hips jerked in response, a soft whine escaping her as you found her clit, swollen and begging for attention. You took it into your mouth, sucking gently before swirling your tongue around it, feeling it pulse against you. Her legs quivered around your head, and you knew you had her exactly where you wanted her.

Your fingers slid into her, curling slightly to hit that spot inside that always made her moan. The sound was music to your ears, a symphony of need and desire that had you pressing harder, moving faster. Emily’s breath was coming in short gasps now, her body tightening with every stroke.

The two of you were a captivating mess—half-clothed and carelessly undone, tangled together on the bed in a chaotic, feverish embrace, completely consumed by desire. Emily’s eyes never left yours as you pleasured her, her gaze a blend of passion and something deeper—gratitude, perhaps, for this brief reprieve from the horrors of the case.

Her hips rolled against your mouth, and you knew she was close. You doubled your efforts, desperate to make her cum, to show her that amidst the chaos, she was cherished, loved. You added a second finger, curling them inside her in a come-hither motion that had her back bowing off the bed.

Emily’s breath grew ragged, her eyes squeezed shut as she whispered your name. You could feel her body tighten around your fingers, her muscles clenching as the first waves of her orgasm began to crash over her. You didn’t let up, your mouth working her clit, your other hand sliding up to pinch her nipple, twisting just enough to send sparks of painful pleasure shooting through her.

“Cum for me, Em,” you murmured against her folds, the vibration of your voice sending another tremor through her body. “Let go, baby.”

Emily’s eyes snapped open, meeting yours, and you could see the need there, the desperation in her gaze. You didn’t stop your relentless rhythm, didn’t ease up on her clit. You needed her to release, to feel the shattering pleasure that you knew was just out of reach.

Then, you began to hum—a low, steady vibration that resonated against her sensitive flesh. It was all it took. Her body went rigid, and then she was cumming, her orgasm ripping through her like a storm. Her cries filled the room, her hips jerking wildly against your face as you held her through it, her muscles pulsing around your fingers.

It was a beautiful sight—Emily’s release, raw and unbridled. You felt a sense of accomplishment, a fierce satisfaction at being the one to give it to her. But even as the first orgasm subsided, you didn’t stop. You knew her body, knew that with the right touches, you could coax more from her.

Your tongue remained on her clit, flicking gently through the aftershocks. Emily’s hips rolled, and you knew she was trying to pull away, to catch her breath, but you held her firm, keeping the pressure steady. It didn’t take much—just a few more strokes before she was gasping again, her body responding to your relentless pursuit of her pleasure.

Her second orgasm hit her like a surprise attack, stealing the breath from her lungs. She bucked against you, her pussy fluttering around your fingers. You groaned against her, the vibration of your voice sending another jolt through her.

Emily’s hands were in your hair now, her nails scraping at your scalp, holding you in place. You felt the tension in her thighs as she rode the waves of pleasure, her breath coming in panting gasps. You didn’t let up, your tongue and fingers working in tandem to milk every last drop of ecstasy from her trembling body.

As the second orgasm began to subside, you slowly pulled back, kissing your way up her body. You could feel her pulse beneath your lips, her chest heaving with each ragged breath. You looked into her eyes, searching for any sign of discomfort, but all you saw was a desperate hunger that mirrored your own.

Without a word, she rolled you over, her body straddling yours. Her hands found your face, pulling it closer until your mouths collided in a kiss that was as fiery as it was tender. She kissed you as if she were trying to consume you, her tongue delving into your mouth with an urgency that was almost desperate.

Emily’s hips began to move, grinding into yours with a rhythm that was both seductive and demanding. You could feel the heat of her core against yours, the wetness of her desire coating your skin. Your own need grew, your body responding instinctively to the pressure of hers.

Without breaking the kiss, you shifted, aligning your bodies so that your clits met. The sensation was electric, sending bolts of pleasure through your core. You moaned into her mouth, your legs locking together as you began to rock back and forth.

The wet sound of skin against skin grew louder, punctuating the air with each movement. Your hips rolled together in a sensual dance, the friction building between you. The pressure was exquisite, the feeling of her body against yours setting off sparks that threatened to ignite a wildfire.

You wrapped your arms around her, your hands finding purchase on her toned back as she ground into you. Your own hips met hers thrust for thrust, each movement bringing you closer to the edge. The scent of your combined arousal filled the room, a musky perfume that was intoxicating.

Her hips picked up speed, the friction between you growing more intense. You could feel the slickness of your desire as it coated your thighs, a testament to how badly you needed this release. Emily’s breath was hot against your neck, her teeth grazing your skin as she nipped and kissed her way down to your collarbone.

You both were so wet, the sound of your bodies sliding against each other filled the room. Your clits swollen and sensitive, the constant pressure sending waves of pleasure through your bodies. You wrapped your arms around her, pulling her closer, the heat of her breasts pressing into yours.

Emily’s hands slid down to your ass, gripping you firmly as she ground her hips into yours. The sensation was overwhelming, the friction sending jolts of pleasure through your body with every movement. Your own hips matched hers, the rhythm becoming more frenzied as you both chased the peak of your climax.

“You’re so wet for me, sweet girl,” she murmured against your neck, her voice a low growl of approval. The words sent a shiver of submission that you had desperately craved. You arched into her touch, your body begging for more.

Emily’s kiss grew more demanding, her tongue delving into your mouth as if she could taste your need. You could feel the tremble in her own body, the aftershocks of her recent orgasm still resonating through her. But she wasn’t done with you yet.

With a sudden shift, she pulled away, her eyes dark with intent. “Be a good girl and make me cum one more time,” she breathed, the words sending a new wave of lust through you. You nodded, eager to give her what she wanted, eager to feel her come apart in your arms again.

“I plan on getting my strap out and breeding you tonight, sweetheart,” Emily whispered in your ear, the promise of dominance in her voice sending a thrill through you. Your eyes widened at her words, the excitement of the turn in your intimate moment making your heart race.

With a sudden surge of need, your hips bucked against hers, your body desperately seeking the release that was just out of reach. Emily’s eyes lit up with approval, her grip on you tightening as she held you in place. “Looks like you want it as badly as I do,” she said with a smirk, her voice low and husky with desire.

You nodded, unable to form coherent words as you felt the pressure building again. Emily’s own hips began to rock, her movements more deliberate and forceful as she matched your rhythm. The feeling of her clit grinding against yours was heavenly, sending waves of pleasure crashing through your body. You could feel the heat from her core, the wetness of her desire, and it only made you want more.

The sound of her moans grew louder, filling the room. They were sweet and needy, urging you to give her what she craved. You responded in kind, your own sounds of pleasure mingling with hers. Each gasp, each whimper was a symphony of desire that spurred you onward.

Her hips rocked faster, the slickness of your arousal making it easier for her to glide against you. You could feel the tension coil tight in your stomach, your legs trembling with the effort to keep up. Your body was a live wire, ready to snap at any moment.

Emily’s moans grew louder, the sound of her pleasure pushing you closer and closer to your own release. Your own breath came in pants and gasps, your nails digging into the flesh of her back as you held on for dear life. You felt her get wetter, her movements growing more erratic as she approached climax.

“Cum for me, Emily, please,” you begged, the words spilling from your mouth like a prayer. The need to hear her fall apart, to feel her body convulse with pleasure was overwhelming. She threw her head back, her eyes squeezed shut, and you knew she was close.

With a few hard, desperate thrusts, you pushed against her, the friction between your bodies reaching a fever pitch. Emily’s hips stuttered, her breath coming in short, sharp gasps. And then, she was there—her body tightening against yours, her cries filling the room as she shuddered with release.

The moment she came, you felt it—a rush of wetness that soaked the sheets beneath you. You couldn’t help but moan at the sensation, your own climax just a breath away. Emily’s eyes snapped open, and she stared down at you with a fierce hunger.

Then, she broke away, reaching for the bedside drawer. You watched as she pulled out a harness and a silicone dildo. The sight of it sent a thrill through you, a mix of excitement and trepidation. She looked into your eyes, her own alight with something primal.

“I’m going to fuck a baby into you,” Emily growls. It was a dark promise, a fantasy that sent a shiver down your spine. The words alone were enough to make your pussy throb with anticipation.

The harness was strapped around her hips, the dildo jutting out like an extension of her. She leaned over you, the tip brushing against your wetness, and you felt your body respond instinctively, your hips rising to meet it.

Emily took hold of your hips, her grip firm and commanding. You watched as she positioned the toy at your entrance. Then, with a single, powerful thrust, she plunged into your wet heat.

You cried out in pleasure, the feeling of fullness overwhelming you as she claimed you. Your eyes squeezed shut, and you couldn’t help but let your head fall back into the pillow, your body arching up to meet her. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, punctuated by your gasps and her growls of effort.

Emily’s eyes bore into yours, the intensity of her gaze making your heart race. “You’re mine,” she murmured, her voice low and possessive. “You’re going to carry my baby.”

The words hung in the air, coloured with desire and dominance. It was a heady mix, and you found yourself nodding, eager to submit to her every whim. The thought of being filled by her, of carrying a piece of her inside you, was intoxicating.

“Yes, Em,” you babbled out, your voice trembling with need. “I want it—please, take me, make me yours. I want to be filled with you, to carry your baby. Make me feel it, all of it. Don’t stop.”

Emily’s eyes blazed with desire, her pupils blown out. She leaned down, her breasts brushing against yours, and whispered, “You’re going to be so full, my love. Everyone will know you’re mine, that you’re carrying my child.”

With that, she began to move in earnest, setting a steady pace that had you whimpering. Each thrust filled you completely, the girth of the toy stretching your walls and hitting that spot inside that made your toes curl. Your hands clutched at her shoulders, your nails digging in as you tried to keep up with the sensations that were crashing over you like waves.

Her hips moved in a relentless rhythm, the dildo sliding in and out of you with ease. The room was filled with the sounds of your muffled cries and the slick sound of her movements. You could feel yourself building, your body responding to the eroticism of her words and actions.

Emily lifted one of your legs, changing the angle and hitting you deeper, harder. The sudden shift in sensation had you crying out, your hand flying to cover your mouth to keep the noise from escaping. Your eyes watered as she stared down at you, her expression one of pure determination.

Then, she grabbed your wrist, her grip surprisingly firm, and pulled your hand away from your mouth. "Don't you dare stifle those pretty little sounds," she demanded, a dark smile playing at the corners of her lips.

"I want the neighbours to hear how good I’m making you feel," Emily growled, the feral sound sending a shiver down your spine. She pulled out almost all the way before slamming back into you, the force of her thrust making the bed frame shake. Your moan was loud, echoing through the apartment, and you felt a thrill knowing that anyone close by could hear the unmistakable sounds of your passion.

Her hips picked up speed, the slap of her thighs against yours growing louder. Each thrust sent a jolt of pleasure through your body, and you found yourself letting go, moaning louder and louder, the sounds bouncing off the walls.

Emily’s grip on your hips tightened as she pulled you down onto her silicone cock, the friction building between your bodies. She was relentless, her movements powerful and possessive. You could feel yourself getting wetter, the sound of your slickness mingling with your cries of pleasure.

Her other hand found its way to your throat, not squeezing but rather holding you in place as she claimed you. The dominance was intoxicating, and you found yourself leaning into it, your body begging for more.

As Emily’s strokes grew more intense, so did her words, whispered into your ear like dark promises. "You’re going to carry my baby," she repeated, her voice a mix of a command and a desperate plea. "You’re going to be so full of me, so ripe with life."

The thought sent you spiralling, your body responding in kind. You felt your orgasm building, the pressure in your core tightening with each thrust. "Yes, Emily," you moaned, your voice breaking. "I want it—want to be filled with you, to carry your baby."

Her eyes lit up with triumph at your words, her movements growing even more frenzied. She leaned down, her teeth grazing your neck as she whispered, "You're going to cum for me, aren't you?" It was a question, but there was no doubt in her tone.

You nodded, unable to form words as the pleasure mounted, threatening to overwhelm you. Emily's grip on your throat tightened slightly, a silent command to look at her as she took you over the edge. Your eyes widened as your climax approached your body tightening around the silicone cock.

"Emily, please," you managed to choke out, the desperation in your voice clear. "I need to feel you cum in me."

Her eyes darkened at the words, and she leaned in closer, her breath hot against your skin. "You want it that badly?" she whispered, her hips grinding into you.

You could only nod, the anticipation of her release almost too much to bear. Emily’s eyes searched yours, a silent question before she leaned down and whispered, "You’re going to feel every drop of me filling you up, baby. You’re going to be so full."

Her words sent you over the edge. Your orgasm was intense, your vision swimming with stars as wave after wave of pleasure washed over you. You could feel Emily’s own excitement in her tightened grip, her hips moving faster as she watched you come apart beneath her. It was as if your pleasure fuelled hers, her thrusts becoming more urgent, more demanding.

As your climax subsided, she leaned in to kiss you, her breath ragged and her eyes bright with desire. But she didn’t stop moving, the toy still buried deep inside you. The feeling of fullness remained, a delicious reminder of your shared fantasy.

Emily’s kisses grew more tender, her movements slowing to a gentle rocking that kept the pleasure simmering without letting it boil over again. Each thrust was deliberate, drawing out every sensation, making you feel cherished and owned. It was a tender domination that made you melt into the mattress beneath her.

With surprising grace, she shifted your positions so that you were both laying on your sides, the silicone cock still buried deep within you. Your legs tangled together, her hand still resting on your throat, but now with a gentle, soothing pressure that was a contrast to the intensity of moments ago. Her thumb brushed your jawline, turning your face towards her, her eyes searching yours.

Then, she leaned in and captured your lips in a slow, sensual kiss. It was a kiss filled with everything unsaid, everything felt but not voiced. Her tongue danced with yours, a dance that was both sweet and demanding.

The kiss lingered, slower now but just as intense, a way to ground yourselves after the chaos of the case. Emily’s hands slid over your back, holding you close, and you let yourself sink into her, feeling the tension in your body finally ease. The weight of everything—the long hours, the children’s faces, the endless cycle of chasing darkness—seemed to lift with each shared breath.

When the high broke, it was like coming up for air after being submerged for too long. Both of you stilled, breathless and spent, bodies still tangled together as the energy between you shifted into something gentler, softer. Emily rested her head on your shoulder, her arms wrapped tightly around your waist, as though letting go might bring the world crashing back in. Her fingers moved absently along your skin, a grounding motion more for her than for you.

You turned slightly to look at her, brushing a strand of hair away from her face. Her dark eyes met yours, no longer guarded. There was a softness in her expression she rarely let anyone see—a vulnerability reserved for you alone. It was a part of Emily she kept locked away, buried beneath layers of composure and strength, but here, in the quiet of your shared sanctuary, she let you see it.

“I needed that,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper, yet it carried the weight of her exhaustion. “I needed you.”

Your heart ached at the honesty in her words, and you reached out, running a hand along her arm. “I’m here,” you said simply but with conviction. “I’m always here, Emily.”

She sighed, her body sinking further against yours as though your words had given her permission to let go. “It’s just… too much sometimes,” she murmured, her voice cracking slightly. “The cases, the victims, the choices we have to make. I keep it together out there, but when it’s over, it feels like it’s all going to crush me.”

Your chest tightened at her admission. Emily rarely talked about the toll the job took on her—not with anyone else, not even with the team. But with you, she let the walls come down, piece by piece. You cupped her face gently, guiding her to meet your gaze.

“It doesn’t have to crush you,” you said, your tone soft but firm. “You don’t have to carry it alone. Let me help. Lean on me, Emily. Please.”

Her jaw tightened, and for a moment, you thought she might push back, but then her face crumpled just slightly, and she nodded. “I don’t know what I’d do without you,” she whispered, her voice unsteady. “You’re the only one I can… let this out with.”

“You won’t have to find out,” you assured her, leaning in to press a kiss to her forehead. “I’m not going anywhere. I’ve got you.”

Emily’s hand settled on your hip, her thumb brushing lazily against your skin. The tension that had held her body rigid for hours finally began to ebb. She exhaled slowly, her breath warm against your neck, as though releasing the weight she had carried all day.

For a long while, neither of you spoke, the room quiet except for the sound of your breathing. The case, the emotions, the burden of it all—it wasn’t gone, but it felt lighter now. You could feel it in the way her body relaxed against yours, the way her hand stopped fidgeting and simply rested on you, the way her breathing evened out.

You pulled her closer, holding her as tightly as she held you, grounding her in the present. “You’re safe,” you murmured softly. “We’re safe. Just us.”

Emily lifted her head slightly, her dark eyes meeting yours again. The gratitude in her expression was so raw, so unguarded, it made your breath catch. She leaned in and kissed you again—not out of passion, but something deeper. It was a kiss of trust, of love, of everything she couldn’t quite put into words but poured into you all the same.

When she pulled back, she rested her forehead against yours, her fingers tangling with yours. “Thank you,” she said quietly, her voice steadier now.

“You don’t have to thank me,” you replied, brushing your thumb over her knuckles. “This is what we do for each other. I’m here, Emily. I always will be.”

She smiled faintly, the first genuine smile you’d seen from her since the case had started. “I’m holding you to that.”

“You should,” you teased lightly, earning a soft laugh from her. It was quiet, but it was real, and it was everything.

The two of you stayed like that for a while, wrapped up in each other. No barriers, no walls, just the safety of knowing you didn’t have to face the world alone. And in that moment, nothing else mattered.

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